PRIMROSE DELORAINE

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10279, 6 July 1911, Page 2

PRIMROSE DELORAINE

OUR SERIAL.

THE MISER'S DAUGHTER.

By MAISIE PENDENNIS, Author of "Sir Reginald's Whim," "The Forgotten Heir," "Rival Beauti eSj > ' e tc

CHAPTER V.—Continued. "Think about it, certainly,'' said Sir Gerard. "I don't know what in the world I shall do, if you don't, A girl of nineteen would bo altogether out of placo in a tober bachelor establishment liko mine. Besides, she will " '," ",, i" „ ,vilA harum-scarum probably ha a \mm, l -;r "~" young woman, with a will of her own. decidedly dubious as to dress and language—the tort of young woman that poets and novelists delight in calling <a child of nature.' However, I don't suppose we need trouble about our arrangements just yet. There *.s plenty of time. Meanwhile, what do you :mv to attending a theatre with me; 5 I'm t.uro you've got a new theatre frock that you're dying to display, ai'.d we could Then he was silent as the door opened, ar.cl th<? discreet man-servant ap- j peared once more, bearing a note on a j silver salver, winch he handed to Sir Gerard, and then disappeared as discreetly he had come. Sir Gerard opened the envelope, and a yellow envelope fell out. "Hullo, what's this?" he said, as he tore open the inclosure. And when he had read it he looked at Mrs Vivian in doubt ond dismay. "Good Heaven," he said, "the difficulty has arrived! This is a cable to say that Deloraine is dead, a.nd that Primro e is leaving for England by the next steamer. Oh, dear, what is to be done?" Mrs Vivian laughed in his perturbed face. "Marry her," she said for the third time. "Really, Gerard, you have no sense of the fitness of things." Then she pushed him toward the-door, still laughing. "Now go;" she said, "and fee about the theatre tickets; and if yon are a very good boy you may come back and dine with me quietly at seven—but only if you are very good." "But when Sir Gerard had gone the smile faded, and her face grew hard and set. "I must have patience," she said to herself. ' "Patience, and then, perhaps, I shall have my way. If I can only get Gerard to marry this girl it will be a step in the right direction. If he were married I should be free to try and marry the man —the man I love. And I would marry him, too. Nothing should stop me." And then she looked at herself criti- j cally in the glass over the mantel. "I am pretty," she went on, "much prettier than most girls, and I'm small and fair, and those big, dark men always like small, fair women. I am sure I could manage it, if only—if only shall have to go very carefully to work —very carefully," she continued. "It : isn't easy to play a game on Gerard, aad if he knew the truth—if he knew ; the truth ——" She laughed, and then ! dropped a curtsy to her own reflection in the glass, "But he won't know the ! truth," she cried, "not till I choose, shall he know it, at any rate. I am I pretty enough, and clever enough to I keep the truth from a dozen men if I [like." -. . And she went aawy to dress for dinner. - I CHAPTER VI. | A JEALOUS WOMAN. | Once more Captain Jack was riding to Red Tree Camp in the moonlight.Once more the gray mare was stretchi ing her lithe limbs in long, swinging strides that carried her over the road at her own marvellous speed. Once more Captain Jack looked grave and thoughtful—even more grave and thoughtful than he had looked that other night. That other night of haunting memory that had filled his thoughts ever since. The night when he had met Primrose Deloraine. Captain Jaok had always scoffed at the idea of love at first sight, but now he would never scoff again. Wildly impossible as suoh a thing had always seemed to him, he had now to learn that it was not only possible, but, in hi-; case, an accomplished fact. Love had come to him at first sight, come swiftly, suddenly, absorbingly. He knew that Primrose was the one woman in the world for him. But was she for him ? That was the question. At this point in his reflections he began to talk aloud, according to his usual habit. "If I could answer that question, old girl," he said, addressnig himself to the gray mare, "I should be a wiserman than I am now. Whether. I should be a happier man is another question, and one that I won't attempt to answer; because, you see, the answer to the second question depends on the answer to the first question, and they both depend on each other." He looked dreamily before him at the fantastic shadows that the tall trees and overhanging rocks cast on the moonlit path, and was silent for a } moment. |

"Love's a queer thing," he went on presently, and his gray eyes became dark with a sudden thought. 'An uncommonly queer thing. Why in tho world did I fall in love with Primrose Deloraine? I don't know. I've'made love to a score or two of women in my time, and a score or two of women have made love to me; and I think I have rather enjoyed it on the whole - - particularly when they made love to me. But 1 never fell in love with a»y of them. Ah, no! But I have fallen in love with Primrose Deloraine, and that's what beats me. I can't esplai • it, Now, I wonder —I wonder " He broke off again. "Was it her eyes?" he added a ;ro- I ment later in the same reflective tone. "They are a pretty blue, if I remember right. Or was it her smile? That was pretty, too. Perhaps it Avas her j hair. That is almost prettier than j her eyes and her smile. Or perhaps it Avasn't any of those things. Perhaps it Avas just herself." Then he patted the gray mare's shoulder. "Buck up, old girl," he said. "We've got to get to Red Tree , Camp, and have one more look at the hut Avhere avo first saAV Primrose; and perhaps we shall see Primrose again, I Avho knows? We should like to see her again, just to say good-by, shouldn't Ave? And we should like—should like " A little later he Avas standing by the hut on the wooded rise, the gray mare by his side, Avith her velvety nose on his shoulder. The lights Avere out in the camp, everything was calm and silent, and the hut itself was calm and silent, and the hut was itself the most silent of all. - It looked dark, dull, desolate, as he surveyed il in the moonlight. There Avas no sign of life; no sign of human habitation. Captain Jack sighed, and slipped ono arm caressingly round the gray mare's neck. "Too late, old girl," he said, in a low tone; "too late! Well, that's the rule of life. I should like to have seen Primrose again, just so that I could have made up my mind Avhether it Avas her eyes, or her smile, or her hair that took me.. But it seems fate doesn't think it's good for me to have wliat I like on this occasion. Fate is utterly untrustworthy sometimes; and that's a fact." He sighed again. "She's gone," he went on. "Perhaps she's already on her Avay to England. Poor little girl! I wonder Avhat's before her. I worder —and I Avish-—" And then lie stroked the gray mare's velvet nose. "We had better be off, old girl. We are only Avasting time. Perhaps some day —some day Well, Avho knows?" He gathered up the reins, and was just going to siAving himself into the saddle. But, with one foot in the stirrup he stopped short, for an unexpected sound had reached his ears. "Wait," said a voice, "I want to speak to j'ou." It Avas a woman's voice, soft and Ioav; but Captain Jack's hand closed j on his revolver as he turned to ans- ! wer. j "Right you are," he said. "Speak J away." The woman Avho had spoken came slowly fonvard from out of the shadow of the trees that had screened her. Captain Jack's eyes rested keenly on her and he Avondered Avhat on earth • she wanted with him. Nobody elso Avas in sight; he saw that as he looked keenly round; but, for all that, it might he a trap, he knew, and he still kept his hand on his revoiver. The woman saw that he did, and a faint smile curved her lips. "I am alone," she said, "quite alone; and I mean business. Straight business! You needn't doubt me. I kmw Avho you are ; you're Captain Jack. In case you don't know me, I may tell you that I belong to Red Tree Camp and that my name is Eve." Captain Jack took off his hat and bowed, and his eyes shone with a mocking light through the slits in his mask. "A formal introduction," he said, in his cool, lazy way, "is not always an absolute necessity in the bush. One looks upon such a thing rather as a formality out here, but the formalities of life are sometimes very pleasant." Then he laughed. "I suppose that you Avant.me to do something for you," he went on amusedly; "women generally do. It's a little way they have." And then he laughed again. (To be Continued).